One blue sock

"It used to drive him crazy when a sock went missing in the laundry. He had a drawer just for single socks. Occasionally a companion would turn up stuck to a sheet or some underwear." Having emptied all the drawers, I dropped onto the bed. "I can't believe this is happening."

My best friend, Liz, said, "Hon, we can buy a new pair of blue socks..."

"No, it has to be these," I moaned, holding up one blue sock with a yellow fin tuna down the side. "They were his favorite socks." I paused. "They go with the suit."

She sat down next to me. "Didn't he hate suits?"

I half-smiled. "And I made him wear a tux at our wedding. Torture!" We laughed. "And for 15 years he had to wear a suit to work." I put my head on her shoulder. "I haven't seen him in a suit since he started his own business."

"What's that? Twenty years ago, now? He didn't wear one to Billy's wedding?"

"Nah. I wish you could have come. They got married in Ally's parents' backyard, so he argued against a suit. He won. He wore a nice pair of khakis, leather Converse sneakers by Varvatos...and his favorite socks." I started to cry. Liz hugged me. "How can I bury him with only one sock?"

"Oh, sweetie..."